Creativity

Last week, I left class and shared a short walk with the Director of Bioethics at my home institution. Our lively conversation started with bioethics, then went to grant writing, then arts-based research methods and finally, to the intersection of art and medicine. She remembered hearing Laura Ferguson, the artist in residence at NYU School of Medicine, speak at a recent American Society for Bioethics and Humanities conference. It was an odd thing to hear an artist speak about her experience with scoliosis and teaching an art and anatomy at a bioethics conference:

To date, I’ve spoken to three groups of surgeons and trainees, as well as other individuals about the use of drawing for surgical education, documentation and generally “figuring stuff out”. The most common response is, “I can’t draw.” This is coming from surgeons who have two fully-functioning hands, trained for years to operate and have fine motor skills better than the majority of the general population. And yet, the act of drawing is what they do with the scalpel or Bovie (a.k.a. electrocautery tool) in the operating room. For me, I had an inherent fear of drawing until my early thirties. In the end, it took an influential mentor, supportive family and friends, an art class, a sketchbook and the will to try.

It was a mental hurdle, rather than a lack of ability.

Here are 10 steps for anyone to overcome their fear of drawing:

Forget about perfection.

Buy a notebook – Something that is nice enough that you’ll want to use it but not so expensive that you’ll be afraid to use it (ahem, Moleskin). I started off with a regular $2 lined notebook from Staples. I made both written + visual notes and found the lines were less intimidating than blank pages.

Get into a routine of drawing (daily if possible) – This could mean taking 5 minutes at the beginning or end of your day. The key is making it a habit.

Roughly outline the image(s) first and fill in the finer details later – Do this without erasing anything at first. You can always return to this later with a darker pencil or pen over your outline, erasing mistakes later. The key is getting it down when your memory is fresh.

Draw from reference photos or other stationary objects – Learning to draw is not just about mark-making but also honing your skills of observation. Photos and stationary objects will give you more time to observe. For instance, those who are learning to draw figures might go to a museum or gallery to learn on statues first.

Listen to music – This might help for some distraction and “loosen” you up.

Take beginner drawing class or buy a beginner drawing book – I prefer the art class, since it gave me a chance to be among other beginners and realize that I’m not totally off. They might get you to do some exercises to loosen up and be freer with your drawing, depending on the instructor. I found this to be immensely helpful.

Show your work to (supportive) family and friends – Depending on who they are, you might have to be a bit selective on this one. People are generally very encouraging and not expecting you to be Michelangelo.

Deconstruct your subject – Breaking down the object into simple geometric shapes is what many experienced artists still do and makes drawing much more accessible to novices. Then for shading, breaking tones down into 5-6 discreet tones will add realism (but not a necessity at this stage).If you can simplify it, then do so.

Accept that you will never be done – Along the same vein as “Forget about perfection”, there is always something that you could add or change. If you accept that you’ll stop at (arbitrarily) 50% or 75% or 80% of completion, then it will allow you to move on.

Do you have any other tips to share? If so, leave a comment or share them with me @SurgicalArt on Twitter. Oh yes, I’m on Twitter now. Something I never thought I would say.

At the Association of Medical Illustrators (AMI) Annual Meeting in 2015, I was simply blown away by the talent within the medical illustration community. Not only do medical illustrators create beautiful works of art, they also have a unique hybrid of skills – both in the worlds of art and science. It was that skill set that can be useful for problem-solving and we saw many examples of how medical illustrators helped to develop novel solutions to challenges in medicine. At this conference, I had wonderful side conversations at the coffee breaks, over beers and over dinner with other attendees. We shared an immediate bond over our (geeky) love of art and medicine. Our conversations were surprisingly genuine and in-depth, and not the idle chit-chat that I sometimes encounter at conferences.

I thought it would be a long shot when I submitted an abstract to the AMI Annual Meeting 2016 in Atlanta, GA. The abstract was based on the idea of drawing as a tool for surgical trainees and I was going to delve into some of my own experiences. Nevertheless, I received this email the other day:

The last Turner exhibit that I attended was over ten years ago at the local art gallery and featured Turner, Whistler and Monet. It was so long ago that I can’t remember whom I attended the exhibit with. But I do remember Turner’s oil paintings and his distinct use of light and color. Of the three artists, his paintings clearly stood out.

On Saturday, I went to a new Turner exhibit and became re-acquainted with his work after many years. J. M. W. Turner (1775-1851) was a British landscape painter who had an incredible body of work spanning 60 years. Going through the gallery, he seemed to focus much of his attention on natural disasters, such as floods, fires and storms. There’s a great story of him asking to be tied to a ship’s mast during a storm in order to experience it first-hand. He painted his landscapes with broad, sweeping strokes and took a fine brush to draw in little details such as people and animals (which my daughter pointed out in delight).

Here are some of my favorites (2 of 3 were in the exhibit):

The Morning After the Deluge – Moses Writing the Book of Genesis (left)

Snow Storm: Steam-Boat Off a Harbour’s Mouth (top right)

Fishermen at Sea (bottom right)

The exhibit also inspired my little budding artist to share her own work:

The other day, I was contacted by a pediatric surgery resident from Portugal whom I had met months ago. He was wondering if I could do a few drawings for a presentation. It would cover different aspects of his training, including urgent surgery, neonatal surgery, abdominal surgery, thoracic surgery, urology, head and neck, burn care and oncology. It would be pro bono and it might get some exposure to the faculty at his hospital. Being early January, I was faced with ethics paper deadlines, research projects and setting up my private practice upon graduation. Nevertheless, I cannot say no.

Given the time constraints, I plan to send him six rough sketches and two completed sketches from my portfolio. Here’s a rough sketch that illustrates midgut volvulus in a newborn baby. It is very “visual pathology”, as my Portuguese colleague put it.

‎Last year, I was in the operating room several days per week and was much busier clinically. Aside from rough OR sketches, the only time I had to draw was on weekends and during my frequent periods of insomnia. I had difficulty sleeping and would just draw to get my mind off the constant thoughts about work. It was a form of meditation, of intense concentration that would not allow for any other thoughts. Although I loved it, life was about work and I would fit in drawing and running, with time for little else. I hardly saw my family last year and that was not sustainable.

The second (research) year of fellowship has been much less structured. Aside from the few days where I am scheduled in the clinic or operating room, the rest has been up to me with regards to research projects. I see my family every day, commute from the suburbs, run less and sleep more. All in all, I probably am still a happier person for it. I rarely have those nights where I am up several hours drawing. I have to say that I am much less inspired, although some would say manic. I do find it hard to enter that meditative state again when I draw during daylight hours. I don’t know what it is about night time and creativity, but there is something that is very special about those hours of the night.

As I write this, I am sitting on a weathered wooden bench in a park, at the center of the huge medical campus that is the Cleveland Clinic. I’ve had an amazing time here at the Association of Medical Illustrators Annual Meeting, learning new ideas and getting inspired by the works of art in the Salon and thought-provoking lectures, seminars and discussions.

Initially, I had my doubts about how much I would get from this conference as a physician. I met up with the only other non-illustrator that I know here for a brief research meeting. It just so happens that he is married to a medical illustrator and they attend one another’s conferences. Yet, the scope of the conference has been so broad that is has been very accessible to someone like myself. I identify as someone who is a physician primarily, enjoys art as a hobby and often thinks about the intersection of the two disciplines. In addition, there have been talks that have tapped into the deep recesses of my memory, such as 1st year anatomy, differential calculus and quantum physics! Just the mention of these topics and I was like, “oh yeah, I used to know this”. I love how medical illustrators are link between the worlds of art and science, and how much potential there is for their unique skill sets + problem-solving abilities.